A Tale of Two Irishmen



Liam Neeson's inspiring performance
 in the film Michael Collins



Earlier this week, in anticipation for my family’s trip to Ireland, my parents and I watched a movie called Michael Collins.  This movie details the true story of the title character and his leadership in the early 20^th century Irish revolution.  Michael Collins fought in the Easter Rising of 1916 and henceforth played a major role in fighting against the oppression of the United Kingdom.  The English rule over Ireland was, in a word, ridiculous; simply to assert their authority, the British crown would find any way to tax Irish citizens.  For example, they taxed the amount of light entering a citizen’s house.  As I said: ridiculous.  So when Michael Collins led his band of revolutionists against the British rule and their policemen-like representatives in the island called “G” men, much of Ireland regarded Collins as a hero.  This little history lesson provides a clear parallel between Irish history and the tale of Michael Collins and Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and its protagonist, R.P. McMurphy.  I cannot help but think Kesey didn’t have Michael Collins in mind when he created his hero, McMurphy.  His Irish surname, red hair, boisterous personality, and assertive and brash nature create a grand comparison to Collins.  In addition, the manner in which he went about fighting Nurse Ratched and the oppressive forces of the Combine greatly resemble Collins’ tactics of persuading the Irish masses to join him against the U.K. and only because he found it necessary to get his point across to the “G” men, used violence.  In Michael Collins, the title character says to rally a group to support him, “if they shut me up, who will take my place?”  I believe this inspirational question mirrors McMurphy’s behavior in trying to pass on his brave strength to the rest of the patients, the way he gave Chief Bromden self-confidence to speak and other members independence on their fishing adventure.  He needed someone to take his place because he knew the fight against Nurse Ratched embodied more than a personal quarrel and he needed someone to carry it out when he left.  Unfortunately, both heroic leaders of these revolutions died untimely deaths, acting as martyrs for each cause.  After Collins negotiated with Great Britain and created the Anglo-Irish Treaty, a controversial treaty that established the Republic of Ireland as a free state, but kept Northern Ireland under British jurisdiction, a member of treaty opposition murdered the Irish leader.  To parallel with the fictional Irishman, McMurphy, Bromden killed him after he had carried out his plan to free many of the patients, emotionally and physically, from the rule of Nurse Ratched.  These figures present the heroic idea to stand up and fight for what you believe in to bring life and freedom to the downtrodden.  I leave with another quote from the movie that could very well apply to McMurphy and his loyal followers: “life without him seems impossible. But he’s dead. And life is possible. He made it possible.”

He Lives in You, He Lives in Me

I am Chief Bromden.  What an odd realization.  It quite disturbed me when I realized how very true this is.  First off, you may notice the late hour of this blog post.  Tonight I opted to delay all my work until fairly recently, when I realized the long list of tasks in front of me and had a mini mind explosion.  In keeping with the Chief Bromden metaphor, I would not see the screen of this computer due to the heavy fog that would engulf me.  I decided on the easy route out of my stress and checked off one of the easy, optional ticks on my list and made cupcakes.  So, my third period Calculus classmates—enjoy your baked goods at our mega-birthday party tomorrow.  They are overflowing with love…and stress…literally—I may have gotten a bit overzealous in pouring the liquid joy into the freakishly small bake cups.  If this behavior isn’t archetypal escapism, I don’t know what is.  I might as well feel a fog rolling over me. 

On to my second strange comparison, you may or may not have noticed, but I rarely speak in discussions. I act the same way at my house.  My family is one of six very opinionated, stubborn, talkative people.  I fall at the end of that line, so I have learned to sit back and listen instead of joining the fight for talking time.  I do not mean to make any excuses for missed discussion points; this is something I am working to improve.  But I acknowledge that I often act like a deaf mute in AP English, sitting with a wealth of points to make, but listening and watching instead of joining the group.  Anyway, I also do not talk out of sheer frustration with my dad.  For example, last night, my mom, dad, and I talked over dinner and my dad brought me up and talked about me, in the third person.  It was very odd; I sat feet away from him thinking how strange the situation was.  I thought of Bromden’s similar experience with the intruders in his Indian home.  Maybe I should act on this realization that I act so eerily similar to Chief Bromden.  Perhaps some shock therapy would do the trick?

Underdogs

One day during last week’s discussion, our class extensively debated whether or not the Ward’s small World Series revolution would actually amount to anything worthwhile or if their efforts would be futile.  Here we have the classic underdog battle.  In my opinion, even if the end looks grim, these mental patients should fight this battle.  Some members of my class speculated that even if they somehow overthrew Big Nurse, another authoritarian leader just as strict would take her place.  This viewpoint displays the same lack of hope the patients feel.  Our society should never fear change because of what might negatively happen, instead know they have a power to improve and carry on.  At this point in the discussion, I wanted to shout out the multitude of examples where the underdog made a small act to inspire change that altered the course of history.  Rosa Parks comes to mind.  Her simple act of refusing to move for the white supremacy in the bus system instigated the civil rights movement.  Similarly, I hope the simple act of refusing to partake in cleaning time and instead watching the World Series creates change down the road for mental healthcare in this novel.  McMurphy must not bow down, despite the oppression and fear he is fighting; he needs to stay steadfast as their leader so that patients like Billy Bibbit can emulate his courage and join in as an integral part of the fight.  Even if they lose, more importantly they will have made a point in their efforts, and some other group down the line will become inspired and build upon it.

Like Acute Awareness

Today in class, we discussed Chief Bromden’s crippling awareness, how he suffers from seeing so much of a person’s true nature.  Around that point in the discussion, I felt some crippling awareness of my own.  For some reason unbeknownst to me, the idea popped into my head to focus in on the word “like” as people talked.  Never, ever do this! It is a path to destruction. In zeroing in on the minute details of everyone’s speech, I completely missed the big picture and never understood what they tried to communicate.  Just as Bromden sees too acutely, I listened too consciously, and it made me into a dysfunctional student, just as when he shuts himself down, he stops functioning as a normal human being. Kelly, you happened to be the one speaking as this wild thought sprang upon me, so I’m sorry but I did not catch a word you said, except perhaps “like,” a word you say quite frequently I may add.  In no way do I mean to criticize, I know for a fact I am a big culprit of the frequent but unnecessary additions of “like” to conversation.  I only mean to pose the question: why do those in this school with the greatest grasp on the English language (AP English 12 students) need to speak and add worthless diction “like” between every other word? One would think our constant submersion into works of literature with all the brilliant novels, blogs, journals, and in-class essays would elevate our language above the mistakes of common jargon.  We assuredly never write this way, so why speak so terribly? We should all, like, really, like, stop.

Harry Potter: A Wealth of Comparisons

            Spoiler Alert! If you are not a devoted fan of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter novels and haven’t read the end of The Deathly Hallows, this blog contains significant information about the conclusion of the series. Seriously, don’t read this if you haven’t read the entirety of the seventh book, I don’t want to be that person that told everyone the end.

A few blog posts ago, I paralleled The Namesake with the Harry Potter series and I blamed my fanatical rant on the fact that the newest movie of the books had just come out.  Now however, I must let my true colors show as an obsessed Harry Potter follower because I have done it again, without an upcoming release to act as my scapegoat. I found a beautiful comparison in Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  At one point, the narrator, “Broom” Bromden, a man in a mental hospital masquerading as a deaf mute but instead making keen observations on the happenings of the institution, apostrophizes to the audience, begging to take his mentally unstable views seriously.  He asserts: “It’s the truth even if it didn’t happen” (8).  When I read this, I thought immediately of the end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, when Harry has an out-of-body experience after walking to his death. He finds himself in a misty King’s Crossing talking to the ghost of Dumbledore.  At the end of their profound conversation, Harry asks Dumbledore if this strange experience only happened in his head, or if it was real.  The always insightful Albus Dumbledore responds, “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?” To compare, Bromden’s world as a mental patient, could very well exist solely “inside [his] head,” but still remains noteworthy enough to get published as a novel.  Although the line from Kesey’s book serves to make the audience question his ethos because it “didn’t happen,” this fact remains inconsequential because even as someone mentally unsound, Bromden still presents poignant information worth taking into account.  Dumbledore’s rhetorical question parallels Bromden’s assertion that both reality and fantasy have something to offer, so it does not matter exactly which group something fits in, but rather what the audience takes from it.  In Harry’s case, he took the information from his mentor and went on with hopes to defeat Voldemort once and for all.  In Bromden’s case, or instead, our case as the audience of Kesey’s novel, we will read on with an open mind, willing to learn from Bromden’s plight and apply it to our own lives.  I suppose this pertains to all of AP English 12, because we read fiction novels, those based in illusion instead of fact as non-fiction novels are, and still pull audiences and purposes and grow and change from them. 

Jabbering About "Jabberwocky"



Jabberwocky



By Lewis Carroll

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

Long time the manxome foe he sought—



So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

He chortled in his joy.



'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.



A chilling interpretation of Lewis Carrol's beast,
the Jabberwock



After today’s discussion of the nursery rhyme, “Vintery, Mintery, Cutery, Corn,” I suddenly thought of another similar poem, “Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll, from his 1872 novel, Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There.  In efforts to make sense of the rhyme, my side of the room pegged definitions on the first three nonsensical words, and more strangely, no one protested them, until Ms. Serensky pointed out that no, these words mean nothing in the English language.  Thus creates the parallel. If you read the posted poem, “Jabberwocky,” you should find, too, that most of the nouns, verbs, and adjectives in this work have no real meaning. Yet, you can understand Carroll’s poem from the articles conjunctions and few familiar words that link it together.  Much like the members of my circle today, I can easily assume some sort of meaning and completely understand the tale of a man slaying the “Jabberwock” beast.  Funny how subtle changes in the English language can play tricks on your mind, right?  This illustrates the purpose of Alice in Wonderland, a dream where she cannot discern the fantasy from reality, or at a smaller level, nonsensical words from the truth.  One might even call her insane.  This idea translates well to the children’s rhyme, “Vintery, Mintery, Cutery, Corn” because it too confuses reality from fantasy to put the reader in Alice’s place of disorder.  Therefore, it translates well with One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest since it has this enigmatic poem as its epigraph. All three literary works prove that everyone has this insanity within them, from Alice, to readers of the children’s verse, to my AP English peers.  I think in Kesey’s novel, we will find a lot of this theme of illusion versus fantasy and how, though people get deemed insane for not knowing the difference, the two have a fuzzy, gray area, in which most people fall.

Monstrosities

Many of my classmates’ recent blogs have centered about the fact that AP English creates sleep-deprived monsters of the English language and procrastination, among other things, intense sarcasm and self-deprecation among them.  Ms. Serensky, you have even remarked on our seemingly unique state of insanity from the endless language corrections and analysis of every situation. 

Fear not though, AP English 12-ers, I have news: we are not alone! Whether this news is good or bad, I cannot distinguish, I feel like “entertaining” proves a more suitable adjective.   Upon reading some of our blogs, my older brother Dan mentioned that I would like a blog that he follows: Hyperbole and a Half. Here’s a link:

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html

This particular blog speaks to me as an enthusiastic AP English student, because it highlights the terrible wrongs people make in using the English language, I encourage you all to use her methods of coping with people’s idiocies.  I enjoy her personification of the monstrocity of using the NON-word “alot” to a monstrous beast.  If I added to her blog, I would make the use of “nother,” as in “she ate a whole nother cake” another curiosity, perhaps a monstrous jungle beast.  Better yet, the blogger, Allie, accompanies her insightful and hilarious writing with fantastic cartoons! Who wouldn’t love that?  Plus, I feel that Allie’s humor in making seemingly normal situations insanely odd and in poking fun at the world and herself mirrors Ms. Serensky’s particular breed of humor.  What more could I ask for than finding amusing and smart comments about life both during and after school! I urge everyone to follow this blog and set their blogging sights high and aim for her greatness. Read her blog: hilarity will ensue.

Straight from Allie Brosh's imagination, for your viewing pleasure, the alot.
go to hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com for more fantastic drawings!
Wow, this picture makes me laugh every time

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

 “Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself” –Albus Dumbledore (Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone)

            In the wake of the midnight premier of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1, my thoughts have almost exclusively centered on this epic series.  Therefore, I find it very appropriate that my blog post do the same.  The quote I pulled from the first book of the series Dumbledore says to Harry in regards to Voldemort, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to most of the wizarding world.  I believe this relates extremely well to The Namesake: Gogol hates and even fears the name Gogol, especially in his teen years when he only wants to distance himself from his namesake.  Later on, the protagonist fears the persona of Gogol—the “thing itself”—in a way, because he does not want to return to his inexperienced, shy self.  For the first few days of his life, Gogol was “not-to-be-named” as well, due to a delay in his grandmother’s letter. To further equate him to Voldemort, they both change their name and identity when they turn into adults: Tom Riddle to Lord Voldemort and Gogol Ganguli to Nikhil Ganguli; and both name changes represent a shift toward self-obsession and escape from childhood and their fathers.  I do not mean to say that Gogol links to the Dark Lord (not you Chase) and should thus get hunted down and killed as soon as possible. To be honest, I just enjoy making the connections.  It is interesting then, to study their points of difference; mainly, Gogol is not a blood-thirsty, egomaniacal, mad supremacist. Partly, I think he owes this to a much better childhood: one not spent in an orphanage suppressing his magical abilities as Riddle did.  More importantly though, Gogol does not end up as such a maniac because he keeps his mind open and allows himself to accept his namesake later on in life.  Tom Marvolo Riddle, on the other hand, rejects and kills his lineage and namesakes and refuses to even understand them.  I think the lesson to most pull away from this connection is to keep an open mind and just start to read, as the last line of The Namesake preaches.

J.K. Rowling's epic series Harry Potter offers more than just a thrilling read

As Immature as Gogol?

I received a letter the other day, asking me to verify my application to Holy Cross.  I dutifully filled out the attached form, and when I came to the space on the sheet where it asked me if I had any relatives who have attended the college, I thought “Do I ever!” and began to list the endless slew of family members.  I kid you not; this list goes on for days.  Holy Cross even has an O’Neil Building hidden in the science complex.  As I wrote down the many family members with a Holy Cross diploma, I became reminded of the reason for my initial dislike for Holy Cross: the legacy.  I feel in college, I should have a place to explore myself, away from the predetermined standards of family and my childhood.   Holy Cross not only would serve as a constant reminder of my family, but I would feel like I would just live my dad’s or cousin’s or aunt’s or uncle’s life, not create a path of my own.  I convinced myself that I grew up from these unwarranted thoughts when I accepted the school as an exact fit for what I want in a college: small, New England, near a city, good at math and science, but my familial issues stay in the back of my mind, despite how logical a choice this makes.  Through all this, I cannot help but compare myself to Gogol and his unfailing need to remove himself from his family.  When I read the novel, I judged Gogol and called him immature for reacting so fiercely against his family and culture, but in real life I find myself doing the exact same thing. Does this make me as immature as Gogol? Wow, I hope not.

Is The College of the Holy Cross in my past? Definitely. Is it in my future? Perhaps...

As a side note, Alex Hurtuk, do not let my Holy Cross qualms deter you in any way from considering this school, it’s still a great one.  I even still like it, I just have some strange, deep-seated issues with it.

Sudden Death

Throughout this novel, The Namesake, I have found the repeated idea of needing a huge event to make a lasting change in one’s life.  From Ashoke’s near-death experience in a train accident to Gogol’s reaction to his father’s death years later, monumental events have acted as catalysts in the Ganguli’s lives, causing a reevaluation of morals and priorities (13-21,180-182).  Only Moushumi, however, seems immune to these life revelations in the face of death.  My class never discussed the odd parallel between Moushumi’s encounter with the sudden death of her secretary, Alice, and the unexpected heart attack of Ashoke, Gogol’s father.  Unfortunately, the parallel ends here.  The horrible early death of his father struck Gogol and evolved him into a more family-based, mature, empathetic man.  While Moushumi understandably suffered a lesser devastation because of her comparatively distant relationship with Alice, still she shows little to no shock or sympathy from it.  A surprising death, no matter how well-known the deceased, should illicit some emotion in a person.  I felt so angry at Moushumi for having such little feeling in this section.   Not only does Moushumi not experience a life-changing shift out of this death, as other characters have throughout this book, but she loses maturity.  The most immediate effect of Alice’s death: her reconnection and affair with Dmitri Desjardins.  In contrast with the mature figures of Gogol and Ashoke, Moushumi makes poorer and more immature decisions after the would-be life-altering event of an unexpected death.  Some classmates wondered why people need such large events to evoke change in one’s life, but at least Gogol reacted after that huge episode, as opposed to having no response at all, as Moushumi did.

Married Names: A Fusion of Old and New

This week in class, my peers grappled over the aspect of taking a husband’s last name upon one’s marriage.  In my opinion, the woman has her own prerogative to keep her last name, but she should know, that in staying with her maiden name, she must try harder to keep her marriage afloat than if she had changed her last name.  While I wholeheartedly support Moushumi’s decision to keep her name for professional reasons, she should recognize that this action, however small, displays a lack of connection to Gogol and, intended or not, she seems to not take the marriage seriously. Sighing in disgust and embarrassment will only worsen the rocky ground upon which their marriage began (227).  If Moushumi wants to keep Mazoomdar as her last name, she shall, but then she cannot afford to do petty actions like shaking her head at its misuse, instead she must put in the extra effort at displaying affection to enforce the bond between Gogol and herself.  Personally, unless the rare chance occurs where I have many publications in my maiden name, I plan to change my name when I get married.  I think I will follow in my mother’s footsteps in the way I go about it.  Because she felt an emotional connection to the quite character-inducing mouthful of a maiden name, Hagenbuch, and the family ties that accompanied it, my mom opted to put this maiden name as her middle name and make O’Neil her new last name.  I think this displays a perfect balance between maintaining a connection to childhood and family and showing the new unit that a husband and wife create. For me, that would make my future name four-part because I should not simply abandon the origin of the “Beth” in my name.  I cannot wait for such a lengthy name, as Mrs. Deighan pointed out on Thursday, if I marry a man whose last name begins with a W, my new monogram will read MEOW.  In order to guarantee this comes true, I plan on marrying Andrew Weaver.